


Fabulous Disaster

by ninjaNinj



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: British!Feitan and Chrollo, Everyone Is Punk, Everyone is a terrible person, F/M, Love/Hate, Mental Illness, Punk, Punk Rock, Sid and Nancy AU (kinda), Toxic Relationships, Violence, fem!Kurapika, inspired by Sid and Nancy's story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 22:33:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14482644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninjaNinj/pseuds/ninjaNinj
Summary: When twenty thousand is stolen from Kurapika's house, she swears she'll find the boys who did it, and rescue her reputation with her family.  This task becomes much easier when they become famous.Chrollo Lucilfer and Feitan Portor: AKA Roro Lucifer and and Feitan Riot of the Spiders luck out and discover fame in an unlikely place.  When Feitan rejects Kurapika's advances she turns to Roro, who she finds will do anything to keep his Pika happy, even if it means his own destruction.





	Fabulous Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _undermine their pompous authority  
>  make chaos and anarchy your trademarks  
> cause as much disruption as you can  
> but whatever you do don't let them take you alive_
> 
> _-Sid Vicious_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, so, since I'm Kurokura trash I found a way to make this into an AU. Sid and Nancy's story absolutely fascinates me, from the rise of the Sex Pistols to the murder mystery of it all. I hope you'll enjoy this. All of the characters are terrible people, you have been warned. Thank you for clicking on this!

They need money.  Their little vacation to America left them broke, though in reality it wasn’t so much of a vacation and more of a last-ditch effort to escape for a bit from the mundane tedium of their bad high school and broken home in the slums of London.  What they failed to plan, though, was how to get home. It wasn’t that they didn’t intend on returning, just that they’d deal with it when the time came. Well, now the time has come, and they’re scraping the bottom of the barrel for a plane ticket home.  

 

They’d started out in New York, exploring all edges of the city, tagging subway stations and rooftops at nighttime with red spray paint, and visiting all the bars they’d found that don’t check ID.  

 

“Fuck America and its stupid drinking age law,” Feitan said the first time they got turned away at a bar, before he and Chrollo had knocked the notepad and flashlight from the bouncer’s hands, followed by shove and a punch to the stomach.  

 

“Fucking punks!” They heard the bouncer yell as ran away down the street, disappearing into groups of laughing drunk people wandering through the city in the night.  

 

After they felt they fully exhausted their options in the city, they turned to New Jersey, the closest neighboring state.  Currently, in mid afternoon, they wander down a suburban street full of large, cookie cutter houses just blocks away from the Jersey shore.  It’s a sight they’ve never seen before in London. The sheer expanse of American suburbia, lined with huge fields of green for miles in all directions, beyond their horizon lines.  It strikes Chrollo then, just how massive and  _ empty _ America is, each family owning acres of space, white picket fences, and large green lawns.  Chrollo can think of only two places in all of England where you’d see buildings of this scale that contain less than ten people.  Both of those places are buried deep in the countryside and filled with billionaires.

 

“Oi, Fei,” Chrollo calls out to him, as Feitan kicks over a garden gnome on the other side of the street.  “How much do you reckon one of these gaffes costs?”

 

“I dunno mate, twenty thousand, maybe a hundred thousand…” Feitan replies.

 

“American dollars?”

 

“Yeah, probably.” Chrollo whistles.  That’s  _ so cheap _ .  At least, compared to U.K. prices it is.  “Oi, Roro! This house is open!” Feitan calls, and Chrollo quickly bounds across the street to meet him by the front door.  “Let’s see what we can find, yeah?”

 

The inside of the house is quaint, yet spacious.  “Americans don’t know how good they have it. This place is a fucking palace,” Chrollo remarks.  Feitan nods in reply. There’s a few family photos up on the walls, and a few pictures of Jesus. 

 

“Cute little family,” Feitan snickers before he spray paints a red symbol all over one of the family portraits.  

Chrollo follows suit, spray painting the anarchy symbol over a picture of Jesus.  “Jesus never looked so good,” Chrollo muses, admiring his work. Just then he notices the staircase and gestures to it.  “Let’s go upstairs, Fei.”

 

The boys head up the stairs and go straight to the master bedroom and begin shuffling through the drawers.  

 

“Hey Roro, think I could pull this off?” Feitan asks with a smirk, holding up a lacy hot pink bra to his chest.  

 

“Haha!  You think she bought this to match it?” Chrollo pulls a vibrator in the same shade of pink out of the drawer he’s going through.

 

“I better try it out then, lemme see it,” Feitan demands, holding his hand out.  As soon as he receives it he turns it on and advances towards Chrollo menacingly.  

 

“Oh no you don’t!” Chrollo yells, escaping to the other side of the bed only to be chased and tackled by Feitan.  The two of them roll on the floor, laughing, until Chrollo gasps sharply and points to the top of a shelf. “Fei! Look at that giant wad of cash!”

 

“What?  How did we not notice it?!”  The pair start to scramble away from each other and towards the shelf when suddenly a high pitched yell comes from the doorway.

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A blonde girl, who can’t be older than fifteen, stands wielding a baseball bat, her face twisted with anger and fear.  

 

“Looks like we’re not alone, Fei.” The two of them turn and begin advancing towards her.

 

“Who are you and why are you in my house?”

 

“Chrollo,” Chrollo gestures over his shoulder to the longer haired boy beside him. “And this is Feitan.  We just happened to be in the neighborhood is all, and thought we’d drop by.”

 

“You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”

 

“That’s right.  We’re on holiday from England, and we’re in a bit of a pickle.  Do you think you could help us out?”

 

“We just need a little bit of cash, and it looks like you’ve got some,” Feitan gestures up to the shelf where the money rests, held together by a rubber band.  The girl’s lip trembles. “Now, what’s your name, sweetheart?” The girl attempts to hold her ground, a scowl on her face as Feitan and Chrollo slowly surround her. 

 

“That’s none of your business.  Now get out or I’ll call the cops.  You’re not getting the money.” 

 

“She’s a feisty little bird, isn’t she?”

 

“She’s a pretty cute one though.  Listen, I’ve got a better idea than calling the cops,” Chrollo says, and he comes within arm’s reach of the girl, who’s lip quivers before she moves one foot back, bringing the bat in front of her.  

 

“Fuck off.  I’ll swing this thing if you come any closer.”  But Chrollo ignored her, in an instant knocking her arm.  With it, the baseball bat thuds to the ground, and Chrollo steps behind her, locking her arms back against him and covering her mouth.  Feitan moves quickly as well, a flash of metal appearing in his hand as he holds a knife up to her. The girl’s eyes widen in fear. 

 

“Now now, there’s no need to get violent, sweetheart. We’ll just take the money, and be right out of your hair.” He backs away from her, and puts the knife back in his pocket before retrieving the money from the shelf.

 

“You ready, Roro?”  Feitan asks, and Chrollo nods, dropping the girl.  She falls to her knees. 

 

“Oh, by the way, you can have this as thanks.”  Chrollo tosses her his spray can, and she looks up to him with confusion.  “It’s spray paint. Knock yourself out.”

 

“I’m calling the police!” She yells after a moment.  “You won’t get away with this! I’ll make you pay someday!”  But it’s all for nothing, because as she says it they’re already down the stairs and hurrying out the door.  

 

The boys hop on a train back to New York City, as Feitan counts the cash they received.  “Nineteen thousand, nine hundred and eighty…” with a low whistle he counts the last twenty-dollar bill and then punches Chrollo’s arm excitedly.  “Roro, we really hit the jackpot back there. That’s twenty thousand! Do you know what we could do with this kind of money?” 

 

“Bloody lot of money, that is.  Goddamn. It’s more than enough to get us home, and pay for our next holiday!”  

 

* * *

 

Kurapika is silently crying upstairs when Layla finds her.  

 

“What on earth happened in here, Pika?” She asks harshly.  Kurapika looks up at her with tear filled eyes, shining with both fear and anguish.  

 

“Mommy I--” 

 

“Pika what is this?”  Layla picks up the spray can from its place on the floor.  “Oh no... did you do this?!” 

 

“No! I-- there were these two british boys and they broke in!  They were in leather jackets and wore lots of spikes and--”

 

Glancing around the room, Layla’s jaw drops when her eyes hit the shelf.  She turns to Kurapika sharply, interrupting her story. “Where is the money I brought home from last night?” 

 

Kurapika sobs.  “The boys-- they took it!--”

 

“You’re telling me two british boys came in here and did what exactly?”  Between sobs, Kurapika recounts the events to the best of her ability. She was sleeping, and Layla forgot to lock the door before she went to work, as Chrollo and Feitan broke in and woke her up.  She recounted the knife and them running away with the cash, as well as them pulling out her mother’s lingerie from the drawers. 

 

“So these two boys from England broke in, did all of that and then left you with the spray paint?”  She nodded. “Kurapika Kurta, you’ve got to be sick in the head if you think I’m going to believe your crazy story.  That’s twenty  _ thousand _ dollars.  And it’s just gone?!”  

 

“But mommy it’s true!” she cries, but her mother shakes her head.  

 

“I could have you arrested for this, you know that?  Sent to juvenile detention.” 

 

Layla begins to yank Kurapika up by her hair before slapping her across the face.  Kurapika cries out and begins to yell “I didn’t do it I swear! I’ll get them one day mommy I swear!”

 

“I don’t know what the hell you did with my money Kurapika but you’re in big trouble.  How could you do this to me? Do you think daddy would be proud of you? You’re the reason why he left in the first place!”  Her mother’s voice cracks as she sends another slap across Kurapika’s face. She freezes. 

 

“I should’ve had an abortion when I had the chance.  Now we have no money. Are you happy about that?” Kurapika shakes her head, trembling as tear after tear pour out of her.  

 

“No mommy…”

 

“Go clean up your mess.”

 

“But mommy I promise I---”

 

“Now!” 

 

“You don’t believe me….” 

 

“No, Kurapika.  You’re crazy. Clean it up, now.”  And with that she shoves Kurapika out of her room and slams the door.  Through it Kurapika can hear Layla begin to break down with sobs too, and she pounds on the door, begging for her mother to believe her.  There are only her mother’s cries and Kurapika’s yelling ring through the empty house, but it feels as if there’s one person blowing air horns in her ears, and another using a megaphone to shout curses at her.  She feels cursed, and it breaks her to pieces when her mother yells at her to shut up and leave her alone. This would be the first of many wedges between them, driving their relationship apart. Kurapika finally stops then, heading downstairs with a promise in her heart to do whatever it takes to destroy those boys like they destroyed her home.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gaffe means house, they use it in London  
> *bird means a girl
> 
> Everyone is likely a bit ooc (I'm channeling Black Whale Chrollo here and Kurapika's dark side) but if you enjoyed please leave a comment or kudos, I'd love to hear what you think of this so far :)


End file.
